#gamora.

compliments on her weapons and gutting skills. how easily she can twist a man’s tongue out of his mouth until he’s crying like a toothless baby.

the craftsmanship of a stab is lost on '“pee-durr”.' he reminds her of a dog. sometimes she’s curious to scratch by his tail... ...then she remembers he carries flesh-eating parasites.

the night shimmers at her wrist.

❛yes.❜ 

the night sounds of drip   drip      d rip so fat and shy it could be the days-marinated tuft of water vapor snagging open above their heads to chase the droughts.

the tongue of gamora’s dagger slobbers blood. through her rings, she feels the bristled knots of her knuckles. there is a feeling and it doesn’t go just yet because it is welcome.

she’ll keep it by the hair if she must until the scalp comes off.

I mean if he DOES have feelings, it sucks, but both of them are grown ass adults. gamora can make her own decisions and peter can respect them. 

But maybe you’re right and he’s not. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Yes! It is, it is, it is, it is Gamora's story. The weapon. The dehumanized. The built, the used, and (in the end) the self-defined. I loved that they let Rocket yell, and especially that he specifically addressed slurs, but where was Gamora's yelling?

(Though wow, let me tell you, I adored that movie. I desperately want more Gamora, but I also liked what we got a bunch).